


Endurance

by BlackBirdAolen



Category: Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor (Video Game)
Genre: Bonds, Captured, Exploitation, M/M, Machine - Freeform, dub-con, forced pleasure, non-con, sexual exploitation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 01:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6683884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackBirdAolen/pseuds/BlackBirdAolen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Talion got captured by the Black Hand - but he didn't count on what would happen to him while being captured.</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="http://ask.fm/BlackBirdAolen">Got a fanfic idea for me?</a><br/><a href="http://cheroshseiphar.deviantart.com/">My deviantART - full of original fiction.</a><br/><a href="http://blackbirdaolen.tumblr.com/">Snippets and ramblings on my tumblr.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Endurance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vinctia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vinctia/gifts).



> The result of an RP and much cracky bickering with Vinctia.

Talion was unpleasantly surprised when he had been captured instead of being killed. Usually, the orcs didn’t give much of a thought to what would happen if they killed him again. It would invariably lead to him coming back to haunt them, sure, but it also meant that they would grow stronger amongst their own ranks. What Talion had not expected to happen now was the development unfolding before his eyes. Both him and Celebrimbor were on edge, and for a good reason.

Orcs didn’t bother to capture and hold the likes of him. Talion knew all too well that they were convinced that, if they just killed him often enough, they would end up putting him into his grave for good. But it wouldn’t happen, ever. He would return, invariably, until he would have freed himself from this curse. That was what the Ranger knew. So he had worked on it, relentlessly, making the orcs nervous with the ever growing threat of the Gravewalker.

“This will make for some entertainment.” The Hammer was looming over him, and just for a moment, Talion was relieved. So it would end with him dying again. He had grown used to it as a means to escape the heat, and to be able to vanish from sight once more. “The Black Hand will be pleased.”

He had to control himself to not let his anger show. The Black Hand was, after all, the dominant target of all of his hatred and spite that kept him going, and kept him, in a sense, alive. They hadn’t met ever since that fateful night, so it would be an unpleasant reunion. A very unpleasant one.

The Hammer hoisted him up with little trouble, dragging Talion along. As per usual, the Hammer had no regards for any sort of comfort. Talion had to bite back several pained groans, to not even feed the Hammer’s appetite. Celebrimbor was cursing him by now for his carelessness, but Talion ignored the Elven Lord. He would have to deal with this, so what? He would get out of it alive, in a sense of speaking.

He was thrown through the door, at the feet of the Black Hand. The Captain was currently lounging in a throne-like chair, currently being entertained by a slave. Talion bit on his lower lip to hold back a sharp comment he had on that. It was just disgraceful how the Black Hand treated everyone around him. As soon as those fire-like eyes settled on him, something changed. The Black Hand’s up to that point rather bored expression made room for a sinister smirk, and with a single swipe, he threw the slave off of him. She scrambled away, while the Black Hand casually fixed his appearance, to then stand and slowly come towards Talion.

“Now this is a surprise I didn’t expect. I think that I will take this opportunity to entertain myself a little while, Gravewalker.” The Black Hand chuckled, then commanded two guards to bring Talion into the dungeons – and to make sure that the Ranger wouldn’t find any means to kill himself and escape his grasp.

Talion had to wait for a while, but not for as long as he had expected, before the Black Hand returned. Along with the Captain, two orcs came into the room, who restrained Talion with a firm grip. Talion glared at the Black Hand, wondering just what was happening in that devious mind. So, he wasn’t going to get killed. His best guess was that he would soon be subjected to torture. However, he had no idea how that torture would unfold. The Black Hand was rumored to have a few devious streaks about him that his fellow Captains didn’t fully condone, yet joined now and then. He could do well without the Tower or the Hammer making matters still worse for him.

A hard hit to the head knocked Talion out. It wasn’t exactly unconsciousness that came to him, but rather an uneasy form of rest. He no longer was able to sleep or rest. What would come when he laid down, or when he was out of his physical shell shortly before it would reform, was a dream- and memory-addled state of floating. The familiar cold would always be there, but also voices, sometimes familiar ones, some of them only familiar because he had heard them so often by now. Mordor surely was crawling with lost voices and souls bound to this strange place. Despite its rather rough beauty, Mordor would always be a place where death reigned supreme, and no rest was given to either the wicked or the pure.

Talion came to with a strange, dizzy feeling dominating his senses. He was tied up in a rather awkward manner. He was half hanging, half crouching above a wooden mechanism, which looked entirely different from what he had seen up to this point. His arms were suspended above him, and his legs were forced into an awkwardly spread position. The Ranger felt that his body was already protesting against this suspended hold, but that was only part of the problem. The other being that he was stripped entirely of clothes.

“You finally are awake. Very good.” The Black Hand was sitting there, on a rather comfortable chair, and with a goblet of wine in his hand. Talion shot him a glare, but was otherwise unable to do much. “I think you have rested enough, Gravewalker. I have waited patiently enough.”

Talion snorted softly, then shifted around a little – and froze in place immediately. His face scrunched up with disgust, and he tried to move away from the machine. Immediately, the ropes around him tightened, his chest coming under the brunt of the force. His limbs, too, were being pulled at. So this was the Black Hand’s devious plan. The more he tried to move away from the machine, the more it hurt. But if he was to sink back onto the machine, the real debauchery would take place.

“It’s a simple game, Ranger.” The Black Hand smiled this unsettlingly cold smile, devoid of anything that would have made it appear human. This was the smile of a predator. Talion was sure that it indicated nothing good. “I will grant you what you wish for if you ask for it. Beg, if you must. I will give what you ask for, Ranger.”

With that, the Black Hand got up and stepped behind Talion. Talion didn’t see what the Captain did, but it set in motion a part of the machine. The rod that Talion had felt shallowly inserted began moving, and the Ranger immediately tensed. He couldn’t move away all the way from that cursed rod, that wooden, slippery thing, that wanted to work its way deeply into his body. Talion squirmed, trying to get out of the way. But it just didn’t happen, at least not without the ropes restraining him like that right now.

The Black Hand lounged back onto his chair, sipping wine, while Talion struggled in his bonds. The Ranger refused to stop glaring at the Captain, even when he felt great discomfort. He half hoped that the ropes would grow tight enough to asphyxiate him. However, he soon had to notice that they caused discomfort and pain, but never were tight enough to asphyxiate him.

For the first hour, not much about his situation changed. Talion would curse and grumble under his breath, while he tried his best to lean away from the rod moving inside of him. He felt disgusted and used from that machine, and he would not give the Black Hand the satisfaction of seeing him getting impaled on that wooden device. Even if Celebrimbor by now was urging him to give up his struggling.

Talion wouldn’t hear of it, however. Even as the second hour had passed by, he was still struggling to stand. Over and over again, he had to give in for several moments, and then, the cursed machine would wrack his body with unwanted pleasure. The Black Hand claimed that it was not only due to the machinery, but also partly due to his own body – which Talion refused to believe. He was convinced that this was because of the Black Hand’s doing. There was some sort of black magic going on.

By the start of the third hours, Talion’s body was burning up. He had to sit on the frame of this cursed machine and be subjected to the unwanted pleasure it brought to him. The mechanism behind him kept the rod going up and down, not permitting him to come to a rest. The Black Hand still was sitting there, watching him with glee. And the Ranger still wouldn’t give the Black Hand his satisfaction.

“I’ll add a rule to the game here, Gravewalker. I’m feeling generous enough to do so.” The Black Hand chuckled quietly as he treaded closer again, obviously fascinated with Talion’s state at the moment. “If you ask for it… I’ll even deliver death, painless and quick. All you need do is ask.”

With that, he stepped behind Talion again. The machine had teased him on and on, but he hadn’t found any relief yet. The Black Hand had made sure of that. A piece of cloth had been wrapped tightly around the base of Talion’s member, preventing the Ranger from cumming. It was painful, to some degree. And it would hold him in that painful state for as long as the Black Hand liked – and as long as Talion kept on resisting.

By the fourth hour, his body had grown numb. That, the Black Hand remedied with briefly relaxing the bonds, and then tightening them again. Additionally, the rod was exchanged for a thicker one. The new one had the circumference of a proper manhood, and again, Talion quaked under the onslaught of unwanted sensations raining in on him. He refused to budge. He refused to utter any sounds of discomfort that could be held back. Again and again, the Black Hand teased him to the edge, but Talion simply refused to show weakness.

What was he hoping to prove with that? That was the question Celebrimbor asked him over and over again. But Talion didn’t listen to the Elven Lord, who was growing noticeably impatient and disbelieving. Talion was wasting precious time. Precious time they could have spent with hunting orcs and growing stronger to one day face any and all opposition still lurking in the lands of Mordor. But instead, Talion chose this pointless exercise.

At the end of the fifth consecutive hour, the Black Hand stopped the machine. Talion was hanging in the bonds, not really wanting to struggle actively any longer. He did look up, however, when he realized that the Black Hand was kneeling before him. What was this supposed to mean now?

Slowly, the Captain untied the piece of cloth, his fingers trailing along Talion’s twitching length. Talion uttered a faint growl, but didn’t do anything more than that. He did lurch forward, though, when he suddenly felt a wet heat unlike anything he ever had felt before closing around his length. The Black Hand had taken him deeply into his throat, and Talion was feeling like he was finally losing it.

“Stop…” He didn’t realize at that moment what he just had muttered. But it was enough for the Black Hand. Finally, Talion was permitted to cum, and he then slumped into the ropes once more. He was just exhausted beyond words. The Black Hand slowly loosened the ropes, and Talion slumped onto the ground. As the Ranger’s consciousness faded, Celebrimbor stretched and took over. The Elven Lord was annoyed how this had turned out. But he would make sure now that the Black Hand would pay for this brazen behavior.


End file.
